The essence of philosophy is that a man should so live that his happiness shall depend as little as possible on external things.
Learn how to live and you’ll know how to die; learn how to die, and you’ll know how to live.
The people whose necks hurt when I write about the Middle East tend to live in Brooklyn or Boca Raton: the kind of Zionist who pays another man to live in Israel for him. I have nothing but contempt for such people.
I see the state of all of us who live, nothing more than phantoms or a weightless shadow.
We live in a world that tells us not to care, to consume everything in sight. It tells us that being cool and being an individual actually means buying what everyone else is buying and doing what everyone else is doing.
A revolutionary poem will not tell you who or when to kill, what and when to burn, or even how to theorize. It reminds you… where and when and how you are living and might live, it is a wick of desire.
To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damn hard.
We live in a time when fictitious election results elect a fictitious president. We live in a time where we have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons.
It’s as if we live in a house which has a vast treasury in one of its rooms. Only we’ve forgotten about it. So, instead of living a life of royalty, we go about in poverty.
The punishment which the wise suffer who refuse to take part in the government, is to live under the government of worse men.